


Vacanze Romanze

by Gemenied



Category: Waking the Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-14
Updated: 2012-09-14
Packaged: 2017-11-14 05:53:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/512020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gemenied/pseuds/Gemenied
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Boyd and Grace's first holiday together. That alone should warn you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Holidays are a great way to inspire and my most recent in Rome really was. About halfway through I suddenly got a certain image of Boyd in my head and it left me chuckling for the rest of it. I just had to write it down. Hopefully, you'll enjoy it too. Many, many thanks go out to ShadowSamurai83 for the beta and the encouragement. And to Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck. Just because.

** Vacanze Romanze **

There are things in life of which you know, even before they begin, that they can't end well. There is absolutely no doubt in your mind that it will end in disaster and yet, you go on with them anyway. What is this aspect of the human personality - masochism? Stupidity? Hope? All of the above and then some?

There's also the fact that quite often, it's not the big disasters that throw a person down, but the small annoyances that chip away at their happiness.

All this is what we need to take into account when we take a look at this little...well...

It had been Boyd's idea and that in itself should have warned everybody on the planet, especially Grace. Boyd wanting to take her on an extended weekend. On holiday. Just the two of them. In Rome.

Grace, normally being the smart and wise woman she was, should have known she was setting herself up for a debacle. Only...when it came to Boyd, wise and smart left her and made space for rose-coloured glasses. The sex was incredible, so you might forgive her for the lapse in sensible judgement.

Their relationship was still very fresh, they hadn't even made it beyond the date and sex stage yet. They went out for dinner and wine and ended up in her bed or his, whichever was closer. Whose place it wasn't usually left early in the morning - dishevelled, wrinkled clothes - to go home to shower, change and have breakfast. Once they met again at work, nothing gave them away.

It suited them both just fine at the moment, both still nervous around each other with the changes taking place. Still, when Boyd suggested they go away, to Rome, for a long weekend, Grace had not protested.

Let's face it; the sunny weather, the breathtaking scenery, the incredible food and tasty wine, and all of Peter Boyd to herself for four full days, she would have beaten herself up forever not to accept the offer.

Swansea, Oxford or Whitby might have fulfilled the same purpose - a place away to have Boyd all to herself for a weekend, but which woman can resist the temptation of a romance laden Mediterranean city?

Be honest. You wouldn't either.

So she packed her suitcase, arranged for a cover story, and joined him in the cab to the airport. The ride there went quick and smooth and that alone should have warned her that luck wouldn't hold out long, but they were doing just a tad bit of necking in the backseat, enough for the cabbie to smirk to himself and roll his eyes. People in love, one would think at that age they would show a little more restraint, but there you go.

Heathrow was its usual insane self with rushing people, screaming children, gossipy pensioners, and obnoxious teenagers. The cues in front of the service desks were unaccountably long, even though by now you had to check in at a machine and only go to the counter to drop your luggage. Grace didn't even need to look to know that Boyd was tensing up by the minute and there'd be an explosion before the trip was over.

A soothing hand on his arm that moved down and entwined their fingers helped, but then came the wait before the gate and that was when things started to go to hell in a basket case. Because their booking was such short notice, they'd have to lay over in Zurich, the time there short as it was. However, their plane taking them to Zurich was late. And later. And even later.

It was a dead giveaway that there was no plane at the gate. Twenty minutes after the original boarding time Grace, knowing it would provide more success if she did it, went to the counter and asked about their options concerning their following flight. She cringed with the answer, but surprisingly Boyd didn't explode - yet - at the idea that they'd be rebooked for the second flight with no extra charge, considering it wasn't their fault. Honestly, the airline messes up their schedule for one reason or the other and then tell their customers it isn't their fault? Who is at fault then? The hole in the ozone layer?

In the end, the plane arrived - one is grateful - and off they were. Thankfully there were no small children on board. It isn't the babies' fault either that flying hurts and upsets them and their only way of expressing themselves is by screaming, but the other passengers are easily annoyed by two hours of screaming. Boyd was no exception and if she was perfectly honest with herself, neither was Grace. Still, they had two seats next to each other, the attendants left them alone most of the time, so they could throw in a little kissing and necking there as well.

Being newly in love, well in sex, really drowned out all the negativity of the world.

Unbelievably, they made it to Zurich on time, the next plane was waiting and with a few very quick steps they reached the gate there. Only there was another security check and this one caught Boyd full on. Three times through the security lock and it still reacted to whatever Boyd had on him. The body check left Grace with a few ideas which she could mask as little as the snicker over the fact that of all people it happened to Peter. When he was asked to take off his shoes, the snickers turned into full-blown chuckles. They stopped, however, upon the storm brewing on his face.

The only thing to prevent an explosion was to press herself against him, kiss him and whisper a few of those ideas. The effect was immediate, his reaction passionate, and damn, if it didn't leave her with weak knees. Him with another problem. But that's beside the point.

The view from the plane window, sunset over the clouds, was breathtaking, romantic and, at this point, Peter really relaxed. So much, in fact, that he stopped fretting about their possibly/surely lost luggage.

Things seemed to look up.

The landing in Rome wasn't quite as smooth as in Zurich, but finally being there they were far from complaining. Not for long, though. The next obstacle was just around the corner and it came in the form of the baggage claim. Which didn't provide their suitcases. In fact, it didn't give out any suitcases. There was just a lonely bag circling and circling. It wasn't from their flight, the screen announcing at least five other flights to claim their luggage before them.

It was one of those nervous-making things. And it was getting late and you never knew what could go wrong as well, considering the clichs about Rome and Italy being what they were. The baggage claim just strengthened those it seemed, and as Grace was getting hungry, not to mention tired - she hadn't slept well the night before, anticipation and nervousness keeping her awake most of the night - she was in no mood to placate the tyrant, as handsome as he was.

In the end, it took half an hour before anything happened, but surprise of surprises, they both left with their suitcases. And apart from quite a bit of road rage and traffic jam, that was it for the day.

Thank God!

Sort of.

Dinner was great indeed. The wine too. Only, the waiter - swarmy and slicked, according to Boyd - liked Grace a little too much. It made for great service at their table, but for quite a bit of cock fighting between the two men. In retrospect, it would be one of the funniest things Grace would ever have to tell about the trip, but at that time in space it was just unbelievable.

Boyd grumbled all the way back to their hotel, which wasn't far, and in a way, Grace would have liked nothing better but to send him on his way to cool off. Placating a territorial lover over a few innocent compliments was not on her agenda. The lover was supposed to love the territory of her body. Thoroughly. Imaginatively. Extensively. Tenderly. Passionately. And...erm...all right, all right. We stop here.

The location of the hotel was great. The hotel looked great. If you overlooked the chipped off paint and wall papers and the dark spots in the corners of the elevator. The bathroom in their room was clean and only a tad bit on the small side, if you were only five foot tall and rather bendy. But hey, it was a last minute thing and it was clean, right? And neither Boyd nor Grace had really planned for bathroom sex. Well, not for the first night at least.

A much bigger problem was the squeaky bed. And the fact that their room went out to the street side. Let me tell you one thing - Rome is a noisy city. Even at night.

The idea of extended sex and making lots of noise went right out of the window. It might have given any passers by quite a bit of a show, but English reticence ruled in this case. So, no sex that night. On the other hand, it had been a long day and sleep sounded like a good plan anyway.

For our awww-moment, let's take a look at our couple, holding each other tight and sleeping peacefully. Who'd have thought, Boyd manages that, huh? Awwww...

* * *

The new morning dawned and even at the early hour, barely 7, one could see the clouds moving in and covering the sun. Before 8 had come by, it was raining. Mind you, rain in Rome is still a damn sight better than in London - it's not cold - but it was rain and if you planned to do sightseeing, rain was a no-no. You know, all those broken down buildings they call antique ruins? All in open space. Rain is definitely bad.

Our couple, still sleeping on the squeaky bed, didn't mind yet. They were sleeping.

So, fastforward to ten and we have our couple up and fighting with a few minor problems. You remember the bathroom? Good, so you get the picture. You will also remember their relationship-routine up to this point. This was actually the first morning where they really had to get ready for the day together and between showering - alone, unfortunately - shaving, getting hair and make-up done, and getting dressed. It was taking a while.

Strangely enough, both Grace and Boyd felt a little awkward around each other. They had seen each other naked. A few weeks of dinner dates and sex had seen to that. No, they are not turning the lights off, so forget it. But broad daylight has a way of showing off the wrinkles and the lines and the paunch and the sag that is not entirely an ego boost. So moving awkwardly, smiling somewhat awkwardly, neither knew what to say and do really.

They found a little coffee bar around the corner and after the caffeine hit of that first espresso, the awkwardness was slowly receding, along with the tension in Boyd's frame. The second coffee was ordered and quickly given and with it, the tension in Boyd rose again.

What was it with these Roman men? Yes, Grace was a very attractive woman. He should know. He did, in fact. But did every man in Rome have to hit on his...lover? Partner? Girlfriend?

Every man?

Of course, Grace was oblivious to this. Naive, he sometimes thought, but swallowed it for the time being and kept things to a dangerous glare at that barista-Romeo.

With the thought in mind, it didn't get better. Every man seemed to look too long, seemed to make lewd comments and gestures, and as the minutes and hours passed by, Boyd felt ready to punch somebody. It wasn't helped by the fact that Grace insisted on taking a bus to the sights, and the bus was jostling them about, road rage didn't even begin to describe what happened on the streets. And it was still raining.

He had envisioned these few days and, though he'd never tell, it had been a rather romantic vision. Of Grace in his arm, strolling down one of those sunny streets and then necking in the shadowy alleys of a park. Him looking cool and debonair with sunglasses on.

Forget the sunglasses, it was umbrellas.

What Boyd had also not expected, was...well...the culture. Grace had read up a bit in travel guides, something Boyd had laughed off before, but now it showed. She didn't seem to know where to go first. The only certain thing was, it was an endless string of churches, museums and open air sights.

Boyd was as historically interested as the next person, even more so, he'd have rightfully claimed, but this was madness. At least the Forum and the Coliseum seemed out of the running, because of the weather. But the Capitoline Museum was packed because of it, long cues at the ticket booths and the wardrobe, masses of people inside. And everywhere seemed to be groups of teenagers who had no other aim in life but to be obnoxious and annoy everybody else.

The poor, poor man. Please, pity him for a minute, it's a hard-knock life he leads there. World heritage culture is draining, especially without another caffeine fix. Grace, however, didn't seem interested in providing him with one. Or some other kind of relaxation, if you catch my drift.

Poor Boyd, indeed.

So, the day dragged on and so did he, his mood deteriorating from the low it had been on. Grace thrived on the artefacts, he on every seat he could find. When it was finally done, the aspect of having bought a combined ticket for yet another site was quickly pushed aside in the hopes of finding something for lunch.

In fact, he was so hungry that most things could be pushed aside. Even the continuous rain. For the time being.

Grace smiled at him under their umbrella, snuggled against him and under different circumstances he might have danced with her around the Capitol. As it was, it was raining and he was hungry, annoyed and in desperate need of a loo. And there was none around. Typical, right?

They walked by several restaurants, but somehow none appealed. Boyd was getting into the mood of a whiny child. Too small, too empty, too full, too expensive, too cheap, nothing on the menu, didn't look appealing. Had he taken a moment to snap out of it and look at the lady who he had planned to romance this weekend, he might have noticed that her posture was beginning to tense as well. There was a small frown on her face, a sigh released into the rain.

Unfortunately, we all know Boyd. So did Grace, but this very reasonable argument didn't reset the rose-coloured glasses. Besides, she was exhausted, hungry, a little annoyed by the teenagers and the rain and had biological needs herself. She was, frankly spoken, not in the mood to step back and let Boyd complain.

And he could be so considerate in the bedroom...

Come on, everybody, you all knew that this line would come.

But let's not digress.

Lunch.

And no, Boyd is not for lunch.

So, lunch. Finally they found a place and got their food and a little bit of wine. The place hadn't looked too appealing in its furnishings, but the waiters spoke English, the menu looked good and reasonably priced and the food was, indeed, great.

Only...remember this strange affliction men seemed have in this city? The one Grace was oblivious to, but Boyd noticed? And being the territorial man and alpha-male he is, had a huge problem with?

Bingo. We've got another case here at lunch.

As a detective it was in Boyd's nature to find out why something was or happened and the interest Grace raised was a serious problem. The solution was obvious too. She encouraged them. The smiles and the laughs, the small talk in broken Italian. She did that on purpose, flirted with other men before his very eyes!

That was it.

His expression and his mood darkened even further.

Grace gave him a long look, then another. It wasn't difficult, because he was/is really easy on the eyes, but something in his demeanour told her that they'd have an unpleasant showdown before the day was out. If she was honest with herself, Grace suspected it would be before dinner. It had been his idea and nobody could have foreseen the bad weather and yes, the waiters were a little too enthusiastic, but he was way overreacting.

True, she had imagined this weekend to be a little different as well - in fact, romantic strolls in sunny streets, intermixed with long warm nights of wild and slow sex. What she had not imagined at all was to be forced to continuously soothe and placate a scowling grump. She was doing enough of that at work. It was her time off, her bloody romantic holiday. She wanted to feel like Audrey Hepburn, not like... it's a fantasy, people. Grace knows she doesn't look anything like a 24 year old Audrey Hepburn.

Still, what she was getting here was nothing like the fairytale romance she had envisioned. Actually...

It didn't get better. Not that anybody had expected it too. The rain was still there. The hordes of teenagers as well. The streets were packed and difficult to navigate with the masses of umbrellas. The atmosphere was hectic. Everything was actually like London. Only warmer.

But it didn't help.

And...it was no surprise in the end, because you remember all the factors we have to take into account?

In front of the Pantheon it happened. The Piazza Rotonda was packed, despite the rain, and that was a good thing, because only a few people watched as a woman started yelling at her scowling companion. In refined English, but it was yelling and it was easy to see that the woman was really, really, really pissed. I mean, 'really' pissed off.

There were words of the man being a grump, an idiot - she didn't say arsehole, but one could infer she thought it - and of her regretting having agreed to go with him. Any onlookers might wonder why the woman had gone, if she - as she yelled as well - had known how it would be. But human beings, especially when angry, are irrational.

So seemed the woman, who after delivering a mighty push to her companion, grabbed the umbrella and marched off.

She disappeared into the crowd in less than a minute.

And Boyd stood there in the middle of the busiest square in Rome, dripping with rain and looking for all it was worth like a drowned puppy whose girlfriend had just run out on him.

Which she had.

Oooops.


	2. Vacanze Romanze II

** Vacanze Romanze II **

At this point we could leave Boyd to his dripping, solitary self and just stop here. Because that's how reality looks.

But...this is fiction and therefore, of course, we don't stop.

The first sign that things were beginning to look up was the weather. During the epic, saddening row, the rain had already almost stopped and now the drizzle receded altogether. Surprisingly, it took only minutes until the sun was blindingly mirrored in the puddles on the street.

The air was mild, though, soft almost, and for a moment Boyd found that it somehow compared with the touch of Grace's skin against his. The thought made him smile. Absently, he rubbed the area on his chest where she had shoved him. For a small woman like her, Grace threw quite a punch. That thought made him smile even harder.

Around him, the noise seemed to rise up with the sun coming out, bringing the dripping masses to an excited state of liveliness. Life was good.

Very good for a man who was in the eternal city on a warm Friday afternoon with the sun shining down on him. The only thing he was missing was the lady in his arm. Knowing her, however, he figured she'd prefer a few more hours to herself to calm down and be receptive to an apology.

It was supposed to be their weekend. A romantic getaway to explore what was beyond the date and sex-stage. There were feelings between them, always had been, otherwise they wouldn't be even this close. What it was, Boyd didn't question. Yet.

The images of the weekend he had planned tumbled over each other in his mind, as Boyd slowly began to meander through the streets and alleys of the inner city. Suddenly, it looked as breathtaking as he had imagined it - the piazzi, the romantically downtrodden buildings, the lively street cafs, and endless number of churches and tourist haunts.

It wasn't that much of a long walk, passing by widely known spots of beauty, but he finally ended up on a bridge across the Tiber and then in the quarters beyond. The quiet back alleys with small cafs and restaurants looked picturesque in the afternoon sun, one in particular catching his eye.

He walked around the place and the square a few times, as if scouting out the area for possible dangers. He studied the menu, looked inside the place and over the outside space. He even had a short, somewhat complicated discussion with one of the waiters, who was also one of the owners. It took a while, but then he was sure to have achieved what he wanted.

They shook on the deal and sealed it with an espresso.

When he left the place, there was a skip in his step, though, if anybody claimed to have seen it, the body would have inexplicably been found weeks later in some ditch by the river. Peter Boyd did NOT skip. He didn't whistle either, so one could begin to wonder who the guy was with whom Grace had flown to Rome.

With the location and the entertainment secured, there wasn't much more to do than to change into the right costume. And put the sunglasses on.

* * *

The text message was somewhat cryptic and she was torn between ignoring it altogether and being intrigued. The hours of aimlessly meandering through the city and absently taking in the sights had calmed her somewhat, but not completely. That man could be so infuriating, the way he carried on and on, and she always allowed him to. If the pattern continued in a personal and intimate relationship between them, she'd be dead by the time she ended it. She didn't want to end it. She wanted it to work. And she wanted her romantic weekend in Rome.

There were still about three days to go and with the sun out and that text message on her phone, who knew what would happen?

A lot of things apparently, judging from the room they had been 'upgraded' to - the much larger bathroom brought her shower fantasies to the fore again - and the bunch of flowers on the bed.

Rushing about, Grace readied herself for what could only be described as in intriguing idea with a lot of scope for romance. He had asked her to dress up for an open air night out. Hmm...

Boyd really had a way of raising her curiosity. He had a way of raising a few other things in her too, and for a short moment, as she hurriedly went through her clothes, Grace imagined a few of them. The images didn't help to get ready, well not for going out, but it was a very nice, very tingly feeling. Somehow, she knew that this night the tingles would not be in vain.

The woman who left the hotel some time later looked very much like a woman rushing to a romantic téte-téte. Wolf whistles followed her to the bus stop.

* * *

The night air was balmy and heavy with scents. They had been walking for a while now, over the cobblestones, aimlessly. As long as his arm was protectively placed across her shoulder and hers trustingly around his middle, what did it matter how long and where they walked?

Dinner had been long and delicious, every single one of the five courses. The two bottles of wine and the chilled Limoncello made them both a little woozy, but it was dark and people had better things to do than watch them.

He had been apologetic to begin with, incredibly attentive too to make up for it. She forgave him, would probably always do, if he threw her that kind of sheepish, embarrassed smile that still held a trace of promising mischief. He could look as cute as a teddy bear, and damn if that didn't push all her buttons at times. He also had other expressions that pushed other buttons, but that was something for a little later and much more private.

So, they had sat in the corner of the restaurant, by the open doors to watch the world go by and enjoyed an incredibly good meal. They had held hands, kissed over the table, played a bit of footsie, talked and laughed. That they could laugh this much together was a good thing. A very good thing. Almost as good as how well they kissed.

At the joint thought, they both suddenly stopped, right in the middle of the street and turned to each other. One kiss turned into two, then three and a few more, each more passionate than the previous and when they pulled apart, they were both breathing heavily.

Grace felt herself blushing.

"A little too public?" Boyd asked tenderly, brushing a thumb over her freshly-kissed lips.

She shook her head, the blush giving way to a grin.

At his questioning look, she made a somewhat encompassing gesture around the square and following her gaze, Boyd realized that 'public' wasn't exactly the right word. From their point, he could see at least three couples doing exactly the same as they had been doing. Snogging. And none of them was really chaste about it.

And so...with a shrug and a grin that was answered by Grace's chuckle, he leaned forward and just before their lips touched again, he whispered quietly, "When in Rome, do as the Romans do..."


End file.
